Wednesday, 28 July 2010

Timecrimes (2007)


Temporal paradoxes confuse me. Back to the Future confuses me. I’m ok with the first one, but after that I’m out of my depth, or bored, I may have just got bored. Now, I hasten to add, my mama didn’t raise no fool, I’m a smart broad, even though I do do a mighty good impression of an abject idiot quite a lot of the time, but, nonetheless, I have to confess, when this time travel malarkey kicks off I have to concentrate so hard I’m in danger of popping and eyeball or having something prolapse.

That said, I did thoroughly enjoy Nacho Vigalondo’s Timecrimes, which I originally watched purely because I was ridiculously over excited after watching Predator, knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and it was on next.

Timecrimes begins with Hector (Karra Elejalde),Hector appears to be blissfully happy with his lovely wife Clara (Candela Fernández) and to compound this happiness the couple have seemingly just moved to a beautiful rambling house in the middle of the lush Spanish countryside and are now in the process of renovating it into their dream home.

This idyll, however, is soon to be shattered when Hector decides that, rather than help his wife with the many jobs left unfinished on Project Dream Home, he will instead indulge in a little afternoon lounging and gazing into the middle distance through a pair of binoculars. Now, really there are only two conclusions I can draw from this; Hector is either a birdwatcher or a naughty little voyeur. I went with the latter, but you decide for yourselves.


Either way, the first thing Hector spies in the undergrowth is a young lady peeling her top off and, in further evidence to my earlier conclusion, after sending his wife off to buy dinner Hector then decides that the best course of action for him at this juncture is to go into the woods and further investigate this naked nymph sighting.

What Hector’s logic is here or what the desired outcome of this little venture was remains unclear, but as he scrabbles through the undergrowth he does finally find the naked young lady, this time more naked and sprawled in a clearing apparently unconscious and he decides to throw sticks at her. I’d like to think here that he’s concerned for her safety, but, frankly, from the little we’ve seen of Hector as this stage, god only knows what he thinks of as a sound plan, so as he looms over her, maybe preparing to give her rousing prod, it does come as something of surprise to him when he is stabbed in the arm with a pair of scissors by a third party.


In the most sensible decision he’s made so far Hector flees into the woods to escape this crazed madman and seeks refuge in the first building he comes across, well, more breaks and enters than seeks refuge, but given the circumstances we can let that slide. Terrified for his life Hector desperately tries to find a place to hide and believes his luck to be turning when he finds a radio that puts him contact with another person in the building. This stranger guides Hector to him and the safety of the silo in which he is presumably working. Meanwhile, the demented loon refuses to give up his pursuit of Hector and, with minimal trepidation Hector is persuaded by the man in the silo (writer and director Nacho Vigalondo) to climb into an odd looking machine to hide from his pursuer. And that’s when his troubles really start.


It transpires that what Hector actually unwittingly climbed into was an untested time machine and he has now travelled back to earlier that same day where a somewhat surprised, but not altogether shocked given the nature of his work, scientist greets him.


Now things start to get to get complicated. As it is earlier that same day there are now two Hectors, one not helping his wife and staring at naked chicks in bushes and one struggling to comprehend the complexities of time travel and staring at the other Hector staring at naked chicks in bushes. While by any stretch of the imagination this would be bad enough, Hector (now relegated to Hector 2 since his unscheduled reappearance back on his own timeline) is soon to discover that in the interim between his chasing after naked ladies and climbing into a time machine to escape a masked psycho a tragedy has occurred at his home and his wife is now dead.

I think you probably see where this is now going. Armed with a reluctant accomplice and a still pretty much untested time machine, Hector sets about a desperate attempt to save his wife and return himself to her as the rightful Hector. But he soon learns that messing about in time is not as easy as certain Timelords lead us to believe. With multiple Hectors popping up all over the place our original Hector must negotiate and manage all his failed attempts in order to restore the most favourable outcome.


Timecrimes essentially presents us with a tale of fractured identity. We see the story coalesce through the perspectives each progressive version of Hector and see the tragic inevitability of his futile struggle as his every preventative action seemingly facilitates the same ultimate tragic outcome.

Timecrimes deals with familiar themes and ideas that we have seen previously and since, Primer (2004) and Triangle (2009) spring to mind, but it does have a charm that sets it apart from other films of a similar ilk. The small cast is effective and competent and rather than feeling like the small number was merely a technique to assist ease of understanding of the more complex factors, it equally served to foster an effective atmosphere of tense and claustrophobic intimacy as a man’s desperately attempts to manipulate unwitting players into his own personal drama. Despite being a tad predictable, Timecrimes is a well paced, tight thriller that is worth catching and not just if you find yourself over stimulated and unable to sleep of an evening. However, for future reference, a lot of time, trauma and temporal paradoxes could be saved if rather than perving on the neighbours through binoculars we all just help our wives assemble tables.

Monday, 26 July 2010

How Billy Loves Stu Saved Christmas!

Well, not Christmas exactly, but my weekend and that’s as near as damn it, and I’m confident that Billy Loves Stu could save Christmas if it was necessary.

I had a pretty crappy weekend. Predominately the reason for this is that my darling mother had to have much beloved dog put to sleep, which is sad enough, but my poor ma is heartbroken, completely and inconsolably devastated and this has made me very sad too. Also my husband made me watch Hot Tub Time Machine.

Fortunately, king of all things awesome. Pax Romano of Billy Loves Stu, had thoughtfully produced The First Ever Billy Loves Stu Meme for Horror Bloggers and reading the many responses to this made me very happy and giggly and cheered me up immensely thus saving my weekend, until my husband made me watch 2012 last night. God damn it, John Cusack, what did I ever do to you? So, in attempt to get my week rocking and to obliterate the awfulness of, well, Hot Tub Time Machine mainly, I thought I’d have a go myself.

1: In Ten Words or Less, Describe Your Blog:
Leather-clad inconsequential drivel with a heart of gold. Like Cher.

2: During What Cinematic Era Where you Born?
A: The Classic Horror Era (late 30's to 40's)
B: The Atomic Monster/Nuclear Angst Era (the late 40's through 50's)
C: The Psycho Era ( Early 60's)
D: The Rosemary's Baby Era (Mid to Late 60's)
E: The Exorcism Era (Early to mid 70's)
F: The Halloween Era (Late 70's to Early 80's)
G: The Slasher Era (Mid to late 80's)
H: The Self Referential/Post Modern Era (1990 to 1999)

I’m from the Exorcism Era. Nothing says the seventies more than disco and an exorcism.

3: The Carrie Compatibility Question:
(gay men and straight women - make your choice from section A)
A: Billy Nolan or Tommy Ross, who would you take to the prom?
(straight guys and lesbians - make your choice from section B)
B: Sue Snell or Chris Hargensen, who would you take to the prom?

Well, I asked Carrie, but apparently she was washing her hair. So I guess I’d go with Tommy, but I’d be thinking about Chris.

4: You have been given an ungodly amount of money, and total control of a major motion picture studio - what would your dream Horror project be?

I’d like to think it would be something awesome, original and groundbreaking, but it’ll probably just be sharks in space starring Ron Perlman.

5: What horror film "franchise" that others have embraced, left you cold?

He was my first so my heart belongs to Jason. (Everything about that sentence sounded wrong). I don’t understand Saw, I mean really, I don’t understand it in any capacity.

6: Is Michael Bay the Antichrist?

Yes, of course he is. In fact, as we speak, I’m packing the seven daggers of Megiddo and heading to the airport. I foresee no problems with this plan.

7: Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Frankenstein Monster - which one of these classic villains scares you, and why?

The Wolf Man and Frankenstein’s Monster are just tragic and make me cry, so I’d have to say Dracula

8: Tell me about a scene from a NON HORROR Film that scares the crap out of you:

Tom Cruise, any scene with Tom Cruise.

9: Baby Jane Hudson invites you over to her house for lunch. What do you bring?

I’m fairly confident that BJH and I are destined to be BFFs. So I’d put on my best frock and grab a few litres of whiskey, my make up bag and all the old records and we’d relive our glory days and bitch about Blanche.

10: So, between you and me, do you have any ulterior motives for blogging? Come, on you can tell me, it will be our little secret, I won't tell a soul.

I just like making new friends.

11: What would you have brought to Rosemary Woodhouse's baby shower?

Frankly Rosemary Woodhouse is a woman with everything; great apartment, great outfits, great hair, successful husband, interesting neighbours, the son of Satan, so really she doesn’t need any more presents. But I suppose once I’ve dealt with Michael Bay I could lend her seven daggers of Megiddo.

12: Godzilla vs The Cloverfield Monster, who wins?

Well Godzilla, obviously.

13: If you found out that Rob Zombie was reading your blog, what would you post in hopes that he read it?

Nothing, I’d just keep very quiet, hide behind the couch and hope he goes away.

14: What is your favorite NON HORROR FILM, and why?

The Thin Man, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Die Hard.

15: If blogging technology did not exist, what would you be doing?

I’d be hanging out at the bus station shouting my opinions at strangers until the police came to move me on. Or Drinking.


Thank you to the wonderful Pax Romano for making the world a better place again.
John Cusack, I've got my eye on you.

Monday, 19 July 2010

Return to the Batcave: The Misadventures of Adam and Burt (2003)


This is a little bit of a divergence from my usual offerings, but please indulge me.

I’m a huge fan of the super camp 60s TV series Batman. I also have a big girl crush on Julie Newmar. So I was more than a little surprised when found out that there was a Batman reunion TV movie that I had never heard of or seen and took pains to rectify that oversight immediately.

Return to the Batcave: The Misadventures of Adam and Burt is a low budget typically camp catch up with the stars we loved from yesteryear, and it probably the sweetest and also saddest thing I’ve seen in a long time, maybe ever. I spent the entire runtime simultaneously mesmerised and melancholic.

The general conceit of the movie sees Adam West and Burt Ward playing stylised and exaggerated versions of themselves in a nostalgically functional plot that necessitates them to recall past events from their Batman careers.

We catch up Adam West living in a fancy Los Angeles mansion bedecked with Batman memorabilia, including a batpole to hasten his journey from bedroom to garage, he also employs a butler, Jerry (Burt Viola from Moonlighting! I found that quite exciting too), whom he insists on calling ‘Alfred’ despite Jerry’s protestations. The story kicks off when West receives a mysterious invitation to attend a museum charity gala where the Batmobile is in residence. Once there he runs into old chum Burt Ward, also in attendance though his invite turns out to be fake, and within moments they witness the diabolical theft of Batmobile which was intended to raise money for orphans.


Somewhat unsurprisingly, in an echo of the original show, the lads begin to receive a series of bizarre and intangible clues designed, as they always were, to lead them to the culprit and it soon becomes apparent that in order to get to the bottom of the mystery and recover the stolen batmobile and save the orphans they must look to events of the past to unlock the present puzzle. This handy plot device allows us then to be thrown into a series of nostalgia dripped flashbacks that chart the rise and fall of the cult show. These segments play like a mini biopic and in this drama within the drama we see actor Jack Brewer playing actor Adam West playing Batman and actor Jason Marsden playing actor Burt Ward playing Robin. Confused? Me too.


It is interesting to note the comparison between the present day West/Ward action and the past re-enactments. The present day segments mirror the characterisation of the fictionalised West and Ward. West and Ward play themselves as actors still perpetually trapped by the memory of their show. They continue to use their familiar character batspeak when interacting and get into KAPOW! BIFF! bar room brawls with handily labelled henchmen. Essentially, the present day scenes play in the style of a Batman episode with all bizarre colourfulness and campness we would expect. In contrast the 60s flashback scenes are played straight and give us a brief insight into the actors’ lives before the show, their ultimate castings and screentests, their relationships with each other and with women and the studio machinations all of which lead up to inevitable cancellation. The old Batman sets are recreated beautifully here and there are some lovely portrayals of many of the show’s famous guest star villains. We also see some of the naughtiness that went on off screen as the boys cavort with a bevy of beautiful ladies and a considerable amount of time is dedicated Burt Ward’s apparently epic penis and the network’s borderline obsession with it.

The movie is deliberately and unashamedly self-referential and boasts cameos from nearly all of the surviving cast members; Riddler, Frank Gorshin and Catwomen Lee Meriwether and Julie Newmar (who still looks phenomenally fabulous, and is the only real Catwoman). There are also a couple of cute running gags; West making Ward pay for everything and the continual Batman style narration that only West can hear.



Ultimately Return to the Batcave: The Misadventures of Adam and Burt is a masochistic pleasure. While it is fun to be reminded of bright, fey frivolity of the original serial, to see insights into its production and warm portrayals of its many stars there is also a heartbreaking pathos in witnessing its aging stars, who were forever typecast and limited by their own success, hampered by a brutal combination of adulation and derision, parodying the very plight that plagued them for the rest of their careers. But despite all this it is still fun and does have a peculiar charm and surely you want to see West and Newmar dance the batusi one more time. And, of course, there are still so many unanswered questions:

Can the Dynamic Duo unravel the secrets of the past and save the batmobile from a dastardly fate?

Will the orphans ever get their happy ending?

Who is the fearsome mastermind behind this despicable scheme?

Tune in to Return to the Batcave: The Misadventures of Adam and Burt — same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!

Wednesday, 14 July 2010

Versatile, Moi?


It’s no secret that I’m a fan of Joe Monster from From Beyond Depraved. In fact, I love Joe so much I’d like to adopt him and make him my boy ward much like Bruce Wayne did with Dick Grayson. We could fight crime together and, as I’m fond of a snazzy costume and am liable to insist upon it, we’d doubtless look pretty fabulous doing it, there would probably be sequins.

Joe works tirelessly over at his awesome blog to spread the word about all the great things about horror and share his joyful enthusiasm with us the unwashed masses (the unwashed bit could be just me; it’s been a long week). He really is one of the most knowledgeable, witty and kind writers out there so please do pay a visit to my boy Howlin’ Joe and send him some good clean cyber love.

In recognition of his sterling efforts Joe was recently, and justly, awarded the Versatile Blogger award and he has been kind enough to pass that award on to me, sweetly ignoring the fact that my versatility extends mainly as far as discourse on boobies and pointless asides about myself. But my own peculiarities aside, I’m honoured to have been among Joe’s chosen and to have been included alongside so many phenomenal blogs.

Now, lovely Joe reliably informs me that the acceptance rules for this honour are thus:

• Thank the person who gave it to you.
• Share 7 things about yourself.
• Pass the award along to 15 who you have recently discovered and who you think fantastic for whatever reason.
• Contact the blogs you picked and let them know about the award.

Ok, so here I go, once again a big thank you to Joe, go and read his blog now it’s awesome and one of the happiest places to be on this here internet. He has also just launched his latest venture Evil Cats (awesome!) and you should read that too.

Right, it’s all about me now, so pay attention. And now here are seven (PG rated) things you probably really didn’t need to know about me:

1) I recently had my little brother and sister’s names tattooed on my wrists. Feel free to say ‘aw’ if you like.
2) I love puppies. So much so whenever I even see puppies on TV my eyes well up with tears. Feel free to point and laugh.
3) I’m prone to incongruous obsessions. American Gladiators was the last one, but my most recent one is Hidden Object Games or HOGs as us kids on the street call them. I’m scared I may next decide LARPing is a good idea.
4) I have this recurring dream where I’m diligently searching a familiar house or building desperately looking for something terribly important, but all I keep finding is a dwarf playing the organ. I NEVER want to know what this means.
5) I’ve been vegetarian for 25 years. There is no ethical reason for this. I had an early crush on George Harrison and he was vegetarian so I thought I would be too. A marvellous triumph for doing things because boys do. I once fell out of tree for that same reason.
6) For a long time as a child, and sometimes still now, all I wanted to be was David Bowie out of Labyrinth. I think it must have been the hair and the outfits, or some strange chemical imbalance, but I still feel I could carry this look off.


7) When I got married I walked down the aisle to ‘God Gave Rock ‘n’ Roll to You’ by Kiss.

Now the fun bit: I now get to spread the love to some of my favourite people. Woo hoo! I would very much like to pass this award on to the following amazing blogs, all of which never fail to inform, amuse and inspire me. Please check them all out:

Carfax Abbey
Lavender Lair of Horror
Post-Mortem Depression
Zombie Cupcake
The Celluloid Highway
Terror Titans
Watching Hammer; the Hammer Films Review
Dollar Bin Horror
Running Over Cujo with Christine
The Bleaux Leaux Reveaux
Creepy Kitch
Borderline
Scare Sarah
Hammer and Beyond
Little Miss Zombie

Monday, 12 July 2010

Horrific Beards I Have Known and Loved

I’m a fan of a beard. Please see exhibit A:

I married this beard

In film the presence of a beard is often synonymous with evil and we often see pointy bearded, moustache twirling villains on our screens. However, in reality, many of the great and good historical figures have merrily sported facial fuzz: the baby Jeebers, Santa and Brian Blessed, for example, so I think that proves what a silly generalisation that is and we can rest assured that beards come in many colours, shapes and sizes, and varying degrees of evil.

I have decided to celebrate my appreciation of the beard in all its glorious forms by sporadically (as and when I remember one and/or when I can be bothered) presenting the beards I have known and loved in some manner of written and/or pictorial format.


Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss)

Jaws (1975)


I was born just a little bit after Jaws was released which makes me and Jaws more or less the same age, though I like to talk about our 35ths less than Jaws, but regardless, for that reason I have a big soft spot for Jaws. That and it being totally awesome. My mother saw Jaws at the time and I’m fairly certain (though I will have to seek verification of this fact) that Ma Jinx (or Mothra) has not been further that ankle deep in open water since this event. I think this says a lot. About the impact of the movie, that is, not about my mother, though really it probably does.

These important facts out in the open I would like to present Richard Dreyfuss and his beard as the first entry in horrific beards I have known and loved. Dreyfuss’ beard is undoubtedly impressive. It sashays onto the screen declaring one thing and one thing only ‘I am a ichthyologist, I spend a lot of time at sea, I know my shit, lead me to the nearest shark.’ Ok, that was several things, but you get my point. I mean, really, would you have taken that young upstart seriously without the beard? I think not. You’d have said ‘thank you very much, young man, but I think the grown ups have it from here. Have a carbonated beverage while we call for your parents.’

Without the beard ichthyologist Matt Hooper is just a nerdy kid turning up at the big boy’s party hoping no one asks for ID. Hooper needs the beard so he can proclaim important plot detail like ‘It’s a carcaradon carcharias. It’s a Great White’ and we’ll believe him. You see, just like the shark itself, the beard is fundamentally essential to the movie. It also serves as a robust and fashionable protection mechanism for such activities as wreck diving in areas prone to high shark traffic, general and more specialised shark baiting and any submerged anti-shark cage antics. It is believed it could have further non sharky applications and is currently being tested as part of the PPE gear for divers, police officers, the military and zombie wranglers.

Monday, 5 July 2010

The Slaughter (2006) and boobies


Last week I watched The Slaughter. It was procured for 150 of Her Majesty’s pennies. I watched the first forty minutes of The Slaughter before I realised I’d seen it before. Really this probably isn’t a good reflection on The Slaughter, but then I used to drink a lot so maybe it’s just not a good reflection on me.

Bless its straight to video heart though; it leaps into the hackneyed action with unabashed gusto and before the credits were even over I’d seen so many boobies it was like I imagine Christmas must be at the Playboy Mansion. The boobies were not only prolific but also diverse, they were a spectacular range of size and shape and artificiality, so top marks for the boobies. In a personal aside, when my brother was in his early teens and suffered from that common teenage affliction of ‘selective hearing’ a sure fire way to get his attention was to say ‘boobies’. My brother is 24 now. This still works.

Anyway, The Slaughter begins with a wholly anthropologically accurate invoking ritual performed by a witches’ coven at the turn of the last century. At the sacrificial climax of the ceremony the assembled witches shed their black robes, because, as we all know, real magic can only be truly performed topless, (are you getting this, J.K. Rowling?) and set about the sacrificing their sacrifice, it’s what they presumably came here for after all. Amid the blood and boobies, the requested She Demon arises in all her naked glory though apparently displaying a curious lack of nipples which is odd considering everyone else at this party, her party, is as unashamedly bare breasted as Wicca probably intended it, maybe the demonic nipples of the ultimate feminine evil are just too much to behold and our eyes would all be burned out by their hellish might. Yeah, that’s probably it.

Back in the present day a house has sprung up, presumably on the sacred ground of naked witchy evil, and that house, after a series of previous owner tragedies, is in the grubby paws of a rich and slimy property developer and up for sale again. Unfortunately it’s in a bit of a state so before it can be sold he needs to get some cheap and readily available labour to clean it up. Naturally, when faced with this logistical dilemma he immediately knows just the group of young, reasonably attractive thinly drawn clichés to call.


The young, reasonably attractive thinly drawn clichés arrive at the house en masse. They are; the sensible older brother leader, his somewhat uptight girlfriend, the obnoxious, surly, politically moronic little brother (adopted), the blonde good time girl, her unwarrantedly arrogant jock boyfriend and some stoned beatnik.

Unsurprising not a lot of actual cleaning gets done. God damn, lazy kids with their drugs and their music and their demonic invocations. While the She Demon creeps about periodically giving members of our little group a good startle, the jock blunders upon a couple of old books. Which are immediately and emphatically stated by the obnoxious younger brother, who is apparently an expert in these matters, to be a human skin bound grimoire and a less exciting sounding hundred year old diary.

It somewhat abruptly transpires that the gang have inadvertently invoked the She Demon and apparently everyone is remarkably quick to jump on board with this idea despite there being very little evidence to support this as a fact. Now while I’ve had little actual invoking experience in recent years, I’m fairly sure it takes a wee bit more than merely reading something aloud at random from a happened upon grimoire. Also, I saw the opening credits and, a hundred years ago at least, it seemed considerably more complex, and more nude. And, while we’re on the subject, what exactly happened to the She Demon in the intervening years between the initial naked coven invocation and the young, reasonably attractive thinly drawn clichés’ accidental bumbling? Did she have to take a part time job to support her demonic, world annihilating lifestyle? What kind of job can a perpetually naked, no nippled she demon get? Why do I have so many questions when I’ve seen this movie twice? Actually, to be fair to The Slaughter, it’s entirely possible all of this was adequately explained but I’d just dozed off, or spotted something shiny.


So anyway, in what I can only assume to be a cunning ruse to avoid doing any actual work on this house cleaning job, the obnoxious younger brother rushes straight to his laptop with the aforementioned old books to conduct some ‘research’. Strangely it would appear that there is a wealth of information relating to she demons and their invocations and rituals just filling the internet. However, unfortunately, it will later seem that there is not an awful lot on said internet about how exactly to get rid of them. Either that or obnoxious younger brother didn’t think to look. Which makes him an idiot.

His ‘research’ informs the rest of the young, reasonably attractive thinly drawn clichés that, for the She Demon to reach her full power, a long and involved series predictable, but nonetheless stupid things, must happen. Firstly immoral or lustful acts, which is handy as the blonde good time girl and her unwarrantedly arrogant jock boyfriend are already upstairs having unimaginative sex on surprising well laundered sheets considering the circumstances, they also have a stoned beatnik in the basement which can only help this particular ritualistic requirement. Things are already looking good for she demons. Additionally some living blood must be spilled, sounds straightforward enough. However, because everyone knows that conjuring ancient evil can’t possibly be a simple and uncomplicated process because that would be just plain crazy, the fact that the ritual is apparently centred around the four elements; earth, wind, fire and water is thrown into the mix to give some pep. Armed with new information I think we can probably all hazard some pretty good guesses as to the modes of death some of our hapless gang will suffer.


So, eventually, we get the promised slaughter. As Earth, Wind and Fire (ok, and water, but it would have been better if was the 70s disco/funk combo) begin to pick off the most obvious members of this entirely useless cleaning crew the whole movie inexplicably decides that it’s now an Evil Dead style comedy. This decision has one rather unfortunate drawback. The script. For quite a long time everything gets decidedly uncomfortable and embarrassing for everyone concerned.

To save all involved any further pain and humiliation I will simply say that from here on in the dwindling surviving members; somewhat uptight girlfriend, the obnoxious, surly, politically moronic little brother (adopted) and the bespectacled but clearly hot assistant of rich and slimy property developer I forgot to mention earlier have to fight for their lives as their friends are reanimated a the She Demon’s zombie slaves. They also have to try and work out a way to stop her from destroying the world along the way, which they wouldn’t have had to do if somebody had bothered to look that up on the apparently all informative internet earlier.


It may possible that The Slaughter is actually a really clever and knowing pastiche of a genre films, or a post modern and ironic comment on the stereotypical assumptions we make about modern youth and their struggles in society or some such that I just didn’t get. But more likely it’s not. There is also precious little slaughtering in it. And it does not have, as promised on my DVD box, 'enough blood and gore to make Leatherface himself happy.' Leatherface got bored and left ten minutes in. It does have an opening five minutes of many boobies though.

I give The Slaughter 9 out of 10 for The Boobies (I feel they have earned the capitalised status) and best taken with whiskey out of ten for everything else.

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